


(mis)understanding

by liknow



Series: minho is a kitten; jisung is whipped [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Come Eating, Cuddling & Snuggling, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Kissing, Kitten Kink, Kitten Minho, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, Switch Han Jisung | Han, Switch Lee Minho | Lee Know, Tummy rubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liknow/pseuds/liknow
Summary: “First of all,” Minho started again, cheeks puffing with a deep exhale. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “It’s not as weird as it looked. It’s not like… I’m not…I’mnotintocats. Or anything.”or: Jisung accidentally discovers Minho's kitten kink, they both freak out for a hot second, and then Minho tries to help him understand. That's about it.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: minho is a kitten; jisung is whipped [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576348
Comments: 68
Kudos: 777





	(mis)understanding

This was _not_ how Minho intended for Jisung to find out.

Well—he hadn’t intended for him to find out in _any_ way, but if it had to happen, this was not the way he would have wanted.

It was late in the evening, and the boys were staying in some hotel in some city in the middle of a week packed with activities and promotions. Minho was all alone on the king-sized bed he was to share with whichever member he was assigned to room with—he wasn’t sure who yet—while the others were out grabbing a late-night snack.

_(“I’m on a diet—do you want me to just sit there and watch you eat? Come on, I’m so tired,” he had teased when they tried to force him to go with. He’d earned himself some untrusting glares and a “What are you trying to get up to, hyung?” from Hyunjin that earned him a wholehearted shove, but the group had let him stay back at the hotel anyway.)_

It was true, he _was_ on a diet, and he _was_ tired, but those weren’t necessarily the driving factors that made him want to hang back. Like most idols of his generation, he was exhausted, overworked, constantly dieting, and… he cherished his alone time.

This was one of those _cherished_ alone times. He relaxed against the soft pillows, squirming slightly. One hand was splayed over the soft skin of his stomach, lightly scratching at it, the other wrapped tightly around his cock. His eyes fluttered open and closed sporadically as the walls of the small room soaked in the sound of breathless moans.

His laptop sat to his right, propped a few inches from his bare thighs, playing a video that he only half paid attention to, his current headspace doing the rest of the work for him. He made a mental note to push the computer out of the way before he could manage to cum all over it—a very much unwanted situation.

Speaking of unwanted situations, this was all only moments before one of the most horrifying experiences in his years as a Stray Kids member—in his years as a person, even.

All was well at first: his hand sped up its movements, his small noises started coming out higher and more frequently (though he respectfully tried to stay as quiet as possible, you know, just in case), the hand that was on his stomach reached up to thread through his own hair as his eyes trained on the video on his laptop, and the other boys were seemingly still out, far away from this mess.

Except… maybe not far enough.

The hotel room’s door, to the left of the bed he was currently spread out on, soon opened abruptly, cutting Minho off mid-whine and causing his entire body to seize up and curl in on itself, his glassy eyes darting to the doorway in terror.

There he was. Jisung, all bundled up in the puffy coat, wool scarf, and knitted beanie Minho had cooed over less than an hour before, cheeks aflame from the cold winter air, mouth falling agape as he processed the sight before his eyes. In any other circumstance, Minho’s mind would have doted on how cute the younger looked, but right now, being braindead sounded like a better idea. His panicked eyes flitted to something in Jisung’s hand—it looked like a food container to him— _shit_. Jisung had come back to sneak Minho food. And instead of finding Minho curled up asleep or bored scrolling through his phone, he’d found him like _this_.

“Fuck,” Minho swore loudly, voice raspy and choked with panic, entire body feeling like it was going to light up in flames because, for _one_ , Jisung had walked in on this, and for _two_ , he had not yet darted out of the room with an unbearably embarrassed _shit, sorry_ , as one would normally do in the current situation.

Only a few torturously long seconds of the initial horror passed before Minho realized that Jisung was not looking at _him_ , in his naked, near-orgasm form, but rather the laptop beside him, which was conveniently placed in a way that Jisung could see it perfectly from the doorway. Minho's stomach nearly dropped through the floor of their hotel upon this observation.

 _Right_. There was also _that_.

“Jisung,” Minho croaked out, eyes darting between his best friend and the laptop, thighs shaking—entire _body_ shaking, actually. He wondered if he should use the hand that had frozen in his sweaty locks of hair to close the laptop, but what would be the point? Judging from the look of absolute fright painted across Jisung’s face as his eyes glued to the video open on Minho's laptop, it was too late.

Minho didn’t usually watch videos like this. As an idol, he didn’t have the luxury of doing so—not when his only two options for sexual relief were either the shower or the small dorm that he shared with seven others. However, he’d decided to say _fuck it_ and put one on today, while he had the opportunity and all. Upon seeing Jisung’s expression of utter horror, though, he was immediately regretting that decision.

He desperately wished he’d just played straight porn, or at least gay vanilla porn—anything but _this_. Anything that didn’t involve boys wearing soft faux kitten ears and glistening pink collars, exhibiting disturbingly catlike behavior. 

“I, um.” Jisung sounded like he was going to cry out of confusion, embarrassment, or both, and Minho continued to frantically wonder how and why he hadn’t bolted from the room yet. His eyes couldn’t seem to tear themselves from the sight on Minho’s laptop, even when he started speaking. “I’m sorr—”

“I—It’s not what it looks like,” Minho tried, feeling sick to his stomach. A _mew_ -like noise from the video echoed over his words, and he finally found enough function in his limbs to reach over and slam the laptop shut just as one of the boys was pushed on his back to have his stomach rubbed. Yeah… Minho was fucked.

“Jisung,” he called again, heart beating a million miles per hour and thoughts running through his head even faster, but when he turned back to the doorway, Jisung was already gone, the door tightly shut behind him, as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

_This is the worst day of my life_ was Minho’s foremost thought as he stepped into the shower, the freezing temperature he set it at forcing his overheated skin to cool down, and his… well, that had already gone down considerably once Jisung had left the room and the horror of the situation settled fully on Minho’s shoulders (and his dick).

He tried taking deep breaths, tried focusing on the feeling of the ice water enveloping him, tried anything to calm down the flaming regret that engulfed his insides. It was all useless though. He knew he was fucked, and no amount of shivering under the cold spray could fix that. He let a few tears of sheer panic escape his eyes and then gritted his teeth, trying to clear his mind for the given moment as he allowed his body to nearly freeze over.

But as much as he tried to change the course of his thoughts, his head hammered with terror. Why, why did it have to be _Jisung_ , of all the members? He’d never in million years wish for any of his groupmates to walk in on him like that (especially the younger ones)—lord, the _teasing_ that would've ensued if it were nearly anyone else would have destroyed Minho’s entire ego—but Jisung was… well, things were different with him.

He and the younger were insanely close—they had been for years now—and Minho, frankly, could not remember a time in his life where he’d gotten along with anyone better. Jisung was his go-to for (almost) everything, his biggest support, his constant companion. The phrase _best friends_ didn’t even begin to summarize how they felt about each other—especially not on those late nights where they sleepily gazed at each other in comfortable silence after sneaking into the other’s bunkbed, or those early mornings where even a soft hug or a pat on the head would cut them loose from their daily worries and send both of their minds into flustered incompetence.

There was a pretty fine line between best friends and something else, and they did an excellent job walking back and forth across that line—sometimes teetering, sure, but never stepping over it.

Right now, Minho didn’t know what line they were even on. He felt as though they’d been knocked over completely, forced into some labeled category that neither understood. Call him overdramatic, but the cold water wasn’t bringing him any sense of optimism in the midst of his panic, instead ruining any last chances orgasm and sending violent tremors through his body.

“Hyung?” someone—sounded like Seungmin—called with his face pressed against the bathroom door, breaking Minho from his miserly thoughts after a while. “Seriously, everyone’s been waiting for you to come out of there. Are you _trying_ to use up all the hot water in this hotel?”

“Not using hot water,” Minho mumbled back, then instantly regretted. He hadn’t even realized he was in the shower for that long, but the thought of the members waiting around and wondering what he was doing in there made him flush nervously, even under the freezing water.

“What?” He heard the laughter in Seungmin’s voice and groaned quietly, eyes squeezing shut in distress.

“I’ll be out in a minute, go away,” he half-heartedly snapped, teeth chattering loudly.

There was a bratty _God, fine_ muttered through the door, and Minho simply rolled his eyes, waiting until he was sure the younger was gone from the room before he turned off the shower water and stepped out, drying off and shivering with the most soul-crushing feeling of dread hanging over him.

Considering what had just happened an hour earlier, Minho should not have been as shocked as he was to see Jisung’s face when he exited the bathroom, in the corner of their hotel room, draping his coat over a chair. Jisung instantly whipped around upon hearing the bathroom door click open, pupils dilating when his eyes fell on Minho, who was dripping wet and looking as though he’d just swam from hell, a towel wrapped securely around his waist.

Minho opened his mouth to speak, eyes widening, heartrate already picking up at an ungodly pace.

“I’ll go,” Jisung squeaked before the older boy could say anything, face turning red as he dropped his bag on the chair and sprinted toward the door.

“ _Jisung_ ,” Minho groaned, but the door was already shutting with a painful slam, and either way, it was more than clear in his body language that Jisung didn’t even want to be _near_ him right now, never mind while he was practically naked but for the towel around his waist.

Minho sighed, hand coming up to press against one of his temples. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, and he needed to somehow fix this— _but how could he?_ He gritted his teeth, hating himself for how much this whole situation was affecting him. He felt like shrinking inside of the clothes he lazily pulled out of his suitcase—baggy sweatpants that he hoped would swallow him whole, paired with the oversized green hoodie he’d forgotten he owned before he pulled it out of his closet last week.

Someone knocked frantically at the door just as Minho finished fixing his wet hair, and his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t want to hope that it was Jisung, but—

“Lino hyung!” Changbin yelled obnoxiously from the hallway, crushing Minho’s subtle hope and causing him to roll his eyes. “Wake up, it’s VLIVE time!”

Minho trudged over to the door, swinging it open to join the younger boy on his way down the hall. Changbin snickered at his expression—or maybe at his overall appearance.

“Are you ill?” the younger joked, giggling evilly. “Poor hyung—you better sit in the back of the room before you start worrying STAY.”

“Shut up,” Minho scoffed at him, too sick to his stomach to think of a proper comeback, instead shoving him toward the wall dramatically.

“Come on, come on, we’re live in three minutes!” Chan called, head popping out of the doorway ahead of them, shuffling the younger members into what Minho presumed was the biggest room out of the ones they’d booked for the night. Minho delayed his entrance for as long as possible, each step toward the threshold feeling like a one-hundred pound haul of cement. He gulped the moment he spotted Jisung—looking flushed and tinier than ever, curled up on a loveseat in the back corner of the room. The younger's wide eyes flitted toward the ground the second he noticed that he was being watched, causing Minho's stomach to turn over for the twentieth time.

He hesitated at the doorway for a solid ten seconds despite Chan's complaints for him to hurry up. Finally, figuring he didn’t have much to lose at this point, he stalked toward the loveseat and sat himself in the empty space beside Jisung before anyone else could.

Jisung’s whole body tensed at the unexpected confrontation, and it dawned on Minho that forty minutes under the cold shower spray had really done nothing for him—his whole body was heating up just sitting next to Jisung after what had happened.

“Let's go!” Minho heard Chan caw at the other members again while everyone found spots around the room for their livestream, but the usual noisiness of his group was drowned out by the anxious thoughts running through his head as he picked at the worn-out material of his sweats.

They sat side-by-side for around a minute, practically squished together on the small loveseat, before Minho finally leaned in toward Jisung's ear in a moment of desperation, making the younger tense in surprise.

“I need to talk to you,” he murmured, eyes burning with anxious tears that he would never dare shed in front of the members. Jisung subconsciously swallowed, his own eyes fluttering closed. “Please listen.”

Minho hated this. He hated everything about this. Him and Jisung were not like this—there was never a trace of awkwardness or dread or anything of the like between them. Regardless of what one or the other or the both of them were going through, they always had each other.

This horrid barrier forming between them now was nothing less than a nightmare.

“It’s…” he whispered to Jisung, surprised he could even form words with how tight his throat felt at the moment. In the background, he could hear Chan counting down the seconds until they’d start their VLIVE while the rest of the members shuffled around on the bed. “I was just... I’m just…”

Jisung finally spoke, his voice a low, shy mumble. “So you, like…” From the sounds of it, he wanted to have this conversation just as little as Minho did.

“Jisung,” Minho cut him off, a clipped urgency in his voice, knowing there was very limited time before the camera would start rolling and their private conversation would have to end. “It’s not as weird as it seems.”

“Okay, hyung,” Jisung breathed in response, not necessarily out of annoyance or discomfort but rather because he felt as if he’d explode if they spent another second discussing the previous events of the evening.

“No, _no_ , I mean it,” Minho continued to whisper quickly, warm breath hitting Jisung’s neck, and the younger wanted to both relax in his warmth and run out into the cold winter all at once. Though he continued to look down at the cheap hotel carpet, he could feel Minho’s intense stare, and in the midst of his indescribable confusion, he felt bad at how desperate the elder sounded. He’d never heard Minho speak like this—especially not toward _him_.

In a spur of the moment, he sighed and reached for Minho's hand, clasping his cold fingers tightly (and he had no clue what had made the elder's hands so cold—he hadn’t been outside in hours, as far as he knew). Minho flinched at the unexpected contact but slowly relaxed his hand, eyes staring deep into the side of Jisung's head, throwing hundreds of unasked questions his way.

“I said it’s okay, hyung,” Jisung whispered, finally, ending the conversation for the moment. Minho swallowed hard, eyes flickering between him and the members on the bed, who were (loudly) preparing for the start of the VLIVE.

“Hey, lovebirds, we’re live!” Hyunjin called toward the pair, popping their tense bubble, and if Minho hadn’t felt as though his brain were frozen over at the moment, not to mention the rest of his body, he would have glared at the younger and lazily teased him back.

The pair’s intertwined fingers broke apart abruptly for the start of the livestream so that they could properly introduce themselves. Minho could feel Jisung shifting around next to him, trying to become as comfortable as possible for the fans, and he attempted the same. They both smiled warmly at the camera, pushing away their worrying thoughts for the moment.

Minho felt like he could breathe for the first time that night since Jisung had appeared in the doorway. Maybe they would be able to survive this mess. Maybe Jisung wouldn’t think he’s a freak, after all—or at least not hate him as a result. Maybe Minho wouldn’t lose touch with the most important person in his life.

The VLIVE went as smoothly as any other, the boys joking about incidents that had happened before and during their performances of that day, Minho and Jisung included in the hyper bouts of laughter. But it was already approaching 10 PM, and keeping young fans awake on a school night was not anyone’s goal, so all of the livestream fun came to an end after around half an hour.

The two sat in silence as the other members began getting up and heading off to their own rooms, the heavy tension from earlier beginning to set in on them again. Neither made a move to get up, both of them waiting for the other to act first.

“We missed you earlier, Minho,” Chan commented, snapping Minho from his trance. Their leader approached them with the smile of a person that _knew too much._

“Hope you didn’t have too much fun without me,” Minho responded, snarky, praying that he didn't sound as weary as he was. Chan laughed and ruffled his hair, causing him to pull away and groan, blush lightly coating his cheeks, though hopefully not noticeably. Jisung stayed perched at his side, a small smile painted on his features, though he looked dazed.

“Hope _you_ didn’t, either,” Chan bit back at Minho, looking as if he were holding back a grin. “Seungminnie said you took a _long, cold shower_ while we were out.”

Minho’s heart thumped so loudly at the remark, he feared that Chan or Jisung could hear it. He blinked rapidly up at the elder, furrowing his eyebrows challengingly.

“I had a fever,” he said nonchalantly, keeping his voice even and holding himself back from swallowing nervously. Jisung shifted next to him, seemingly tuning into the conversation now. Chan raised his eyebrows at Minho’s false confession, looking slightly worried (though Minho had a feeling he wasn’t as concerned as he looked).

“Well, you better get some sleep then, huh?” he smiled again, mouth soft but eyes remarkably sharp, as if they could see right through Minho and Jisung—which they probably could. Chan turned to the younger of the two. “You too, Hannie. You worked hard today.”

Jisung smiled cutely, cheeks dusted in pink at the praise, and he finally moved to get up and head out toward their room. Minho remained seated for a moment, staring up at Chan while Chan stared back, a silent conversation erupting between them before either of them opened their mouth.

“You don’t have to tell me—” Chan attempted to break the silence.

“Then I won’t,” Minho cut him off with the fakest smile he had to offer. Chan gave him an exasperated look at this, but Minho was already up and on his way out of the room before he could say anything else.

“Night, Changbinnie!” he chirped to Changbin, who was half dressed in his pajamas, and smacked his bare torso as he passed by, causing the younger to call after him threateningly. Minho giggled to himself while he padded down the hallway, but as soon as he approached the door of him and Jisung’s shared room for the night, the smile melted off his face, and once again came the feeling of burning dread buried deep within his gut.

He must have spent at least three minutes outside the door, shifting from foot to foot, before he was interrupted by soft footsteps.

“Huh? Lino hyung?” their maknae called loudly as he exited the room across the hall. “What are you doing?”

Minho nearly lunged at Jeongin in his frantic state. “Quiet!” he hushed, fearing that Jisung would hear the commotion from inside their room.

Jeongin gave him a quizzical look. “Who are you hiding from?” he asked, lowering his voice, but it was already too late; Jisung was timidly opening the door, peering out with wide, curious eyes. He stared at Minho where he was planted out in the hallway, expression close to unreadable.

“I knew you were out here,” he murmured slowly before his eyes landed on the boy beside Minho. A small smile played on his lips, directed at the youngest, but Minho’s heart still sped up at the sight of it. “Hey, go to sleep, child.”

Jeongin narrowed his eyes slightly at the remark but offered a soft _good night_ to the two elder members nonetheless and padded down the hallway to his room, leaving Minho with a swirling feeling in his stomach and Jisung with the same flushed cheeks he’d had all evening.

The younger of the pair swallowed visibly and then drew back inside the room, a silent request for Minho to enter after all his hesitation. He inhaled deeply once Jisung was out of sight and stepped inside, the air so thick with tension that goosebumps formed even under his hoodie.

Jisung was standing at the other side of the room by the time he was inside, fiddling with his bag while Minho gently closed the door behind him. Both waited a good, incredibly awkward ten seconds before speaking.

“I’m really sorry,” Minho started to choke out at the same time Jisung said, “I can’t believe you got your naked germs all over our bed.”

Minho froze in shock, Jisung turning from his bag to grin at his reaction cheekily.

“Well—I—” Minho stuttered, face heating up, completely off-guard. He didn’t know what he’d expected the younger to say at first, but to hear him crack a joke so abruptly made the tension fall from his shoulders almost completely. He narrowed his eyes at Jisung, finding his composure once again. “I stayed on _my_ side of the bed, okay?”

Jisung smiled at his answer, then turned back to his bag in shyness. The horrid tension may have been tackled for the moment, but the conversation wasn’t over—it’d hardly begun—and they both knew that.

“Jisungie,” Minho sighed, voice gentle as he moved to the bed. Jisung hummed in acknowledgement as he rummaged through his bag for God knows what—if anything. Maybe he was just trying to avoid looking at Minho for as long as he could. Minho didn't blame him for that, but they _really_ needed to talk this out as soon as possible.

“Hey,” he called when the younger continued to face away from him. Jisung finally exhaled, slowly turning back to face him, still finding difficulty looking Minho in the eyes. Minho gazed at him sadly for a few seconds.

“You’re my best friend,” he continued when Jisung met his eyes at last, “so can we talk about this, please? Until it stops being weird?”

Jisung flushed, staring down at his feet as he came over to sit on the corner of the bed, distant from Minho though much closer than where he’d been standing. “Don’t know if it’ll ever stop being weird, hyung,” he mumbled, looking slightly as though he might explode any second.

Minho let out a pitiful laugh and moved to lie on his stomach. “I mean, you _have_ seen me naked before,” he reasoned shyly, trying to keep his voice even as he wracked his mind for the right words to say, if there even were any.

“That’s not really what made it weird.”

Minho swallowed loudly. Clearly, there was no skirting around it anymore—there was no point. He knew that Jisung _knew_ , or _partially_ knew, or at least _wanted_ to know.

“Listen. I—the cat stuff—” Minho tried before sighing, face falling in his hands. He could hear Jisung’s fingers scraping along the bed comforter as he nervously waited for Minho to continue.

“I’m listening, hyung,” the younger offered quietly when he didn’t go on.

“First of all,” Minho started again, cheeks puffing with a deep exhale. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “It’s not as weird as it looked. It’s not like… I’m not… _I’mnotintocats_. Or anything.”

“Okay...” Jisung offered a breathy, nervous laugh. “I’m glad.”

“Listen,” Minho groaned, face pressing against his hands again. He'd have liked to hide there forever. “I know it probably looked strange.”

He could feel the mattress shifting around as Jisung moved closer to him, and his heart started beating faster, though he didn’t dare look up yet. The younger surprised him with a sudden poke at the top of his head, causing Minho to violently flinch. Jisung snorted quietly while Minho stared up at him in awe, cheeks flushed red.

“You’re, um. You’re my best friend, too,” Jisung echoed Minho’s words, voice faltering slightly at _best friend_ , but Minho didn’t pause to wonder why because he already knew—he always had.

“So,” Jisung continued, lips formed in a thoughtful sort of pout that made Minho’s brain fog up. “We can talk about it. Or try to. Right?”

“Yeah,” Minho breathed, relieved but also more nervous than ever. “Um.”

It was clear that neither of them knew how to continue the discussion.

“I’m just gonna come out and ask, hyung, or I’ll never stop thinking about it,” Jisung said rushedly. “What’s the deal with the—with the _cat stuff?”_

Minho laughed nervously, pressing his cheek against the bed where he remained on his stomach, wishing he could press his whole body through the mattress—through the floor, even.

“I, uh,” he exhaled shakily for what felt like the hundredth time. “I have a thing.”

“A thing for cats,” Jisung supplied slowly.

“No!” Minho croaked back instantly, eyes widening. “Well, I mean, yes. But not, like...”

Jisung chewed on his lower lip, staring at Minho like he was the most bizarre person he’d ever seen. And at this point, he probably was. Minho internally applauded the younger for not leaving him yet, for not running out on him and begging one of the other members to switch rooms.

“I just, um.” Minho’s hands balled into fists, and his eyes fluttered shut. He’d have rather done anything—anything in the world—than discuss his unusual… _preferences_ … with Jisung, but he knew he had to do it if either of them wanted to move on from this night.

“Hyung, just say it,” Jisung pleaded, tired of the burning sensation on his cheeks. “It can’t get any weirder between us now, can it?”

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” Minho mumbled into the bedspread, wishing he could melt, but Jisung kept his lips sealed, silently urging him to continue. “I just… kind of… have a thing… for like…” he whispered slowly and loudly enough for Jisung to hear every word. “I like it when… um… I like being…” he tried again but trailed off when he heard Jisung inhale sharply. He didn’t dare open his eyes to gauge the younger’s expression, but he swore he could hear a lightbulb go off.

“I think I get it,” Jisung breathed, hoping Minho couldn’t feel how hard he was shaking at the realization that was creeping up on him. “You, like, um…” It was his turn to fall silent.

Minho mumbled nonsense into the bed. He was closer to Jisung than practically anyone—the two hardly had boundaries as it was. But this whole ordeal was making his head spin and his body tremble. It was too much.

“So, uh, are you…?” Jisung trailed off, clearly unsure of how far Minho was willing to let him prod.

“Just ask,” Minho sighed. He really had nothing to lose right now—his dignity was far out the door, anyway.

“Are you, like, with someone?” Jisung blurted.

Minho finally lifted his head and opened his eyes to peer at Jisung, eyebrows raised amusedly at the unexpected question. The younger looked even more flushed if possible, still gnawing on his lip as he timidly waited for Minho to respond.

“No, I’m not fucking anyone… you’d know if I was,” he assured with a gentle laugh. “And no one really knows about my—about any of this. Except for you, now.”

“Really?” Jisung's eyes glinted in a strange way, a way that made it impossible to break their eye contact, despite how badly Minho wanted to bury his face into his hands again. “Then how… how did you, like... know about it?”

Minho opened his mouth to respond, then clamped it shut, then opened it again. If he worded this incorrectly, Jisung really _would_ think he was a freak.

“Well, you see, I just...” He tried to sound as casual as possible. “I’ve just always liked when people… do stuff. And, you know, treat me like that? You know, like— _fuck_.”

He hated how nervous he felt talking to Jisung right now, hated the way Jisung’s curious gaze made him even _more_ nervous than he already was. His eyes fell to the bed comforter, hands clutching and releasing the material as a temporary distraction.

“Oh,” was Jisung’s soft response. Silence filled the room for a moment, and then, out of the corner of his eye, Minho could see a limb moving, and then—

“So,” Jisung breathed, hand lightly settling on the top of Minho’s back, between his shoulder blades where the hood of his sweatshirt fell. Minho tried not to look as surprised as he felt at the sudden contact.

“You like it when…?” the younger trailed off, hand more or less voicing the question _You like being pet?_ as it softly moved down Minho’s back, light as a feather but heavy enough that Minho could feel it through his clothing.

Minho bit down on the inside of his cheek, his guts suddenly feeling like they were turning to ash. His mind spun even at the lightest touch of Jisung’s fingers over his hoodie, and he hated it.

“Jisung,” he breathed softly, absolutely unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift. “You don’t have to, like—”

“I just want to understand,” Jisung cut Minho's words off, hand trailing back up toward his shoulder blades before pausing. “If that’s okay with you.”

“I—” Minho choked, not quite knowing what the younger was trying to imply, but admittedly willing to let him do whatever it was he wanted to help him _understand_. He cleared his throat, unable to think straight with the light weight of Jisung’s palm on his back. “ _Yes plea_ —I mean, of course it's okay.”

Jisung watched him for a minute even after he’d responded, seemingly fascinated at how Minho was reacting to everything he did and said.

“Okay,” he finally exhaled, softly, hand now tracing circles on Minho’s back. “Can you turn over?”

Minho felt like he was about to die. Was this real? _Was it?_

Without a word, he rolled over toward Jisung so he was lying on his back like he'd requested. The movement brought the two significantly closer, to the point where Minho’s side was pressed flush against Jisung’s folded legs. He stared up at him, dazed, listening to his own heart beat sporadically while he waited for the other to make a move.

“May I?” Jisung asked him, voice small and quiet, and Minho hadn’t a single clue what he was asking permission for, but he nodded rapidly anyway, trying not to let his breathing out of control, trying to keep the anticipation boiling in his veins at bay.

“Okay,” Jisung whispered again—and Minho noted the way he kept going back to that single word, but before he could ponder it any further, Jisung’s hand was creeping toward the bottom of his hoodie and then sliding under the material, fingers splaying across Minho’s stomach.

He then stopped his movements to glance down at the elder, who let out a breath he didn’t even mean to hold in.

“Good?” Jisung cautioned, his voice a soothing murmur. Minho nodded, brain thrown out the window by this point, any chance of him forming words right now lower than he could even calculate.

And then Jisung’s hand started to move. Back and forth, up and down, circling and drawing shapes over the smooth skin of Minho’s stomach. “Like this?”

Minho didn’t respond, just stared up at him like he held all the answers to the universe inside his head, so Jisung continued to softly caress him. The older boy began to shift around with every touch, squirming against the mattress in attempt to calm his body down from the burning feeling in his gut that was only growing stronger each second.

“You don’t have to do this, Jisungie,” he reminded breathlessly, surprised that the words even came out. Jisung smiled down at him in response, almost playfully, and Minho’s heart nearly stopped on cue.

“I think I want to,” Jisung answered quietly, hand now kneading at Minho’s lower stomach, “just as long as _you_ want me to.”

“ _Fuck_ , Jisung,” Minho breathed, in awe at the younger’s rapidly growing boldness, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers trailed lightly over his hips, just above the waistline of his sweatpants.

He hated how turned on he was by the entire situation. He hated how the simplest motions of Jisung’s fingers transformed his limbs to jelly and lit his entire core on fire. He had never felt so fragile, so _needy_ , in his entire life. And he’d never expected to feel such a way at the hands of Jisung— _his_ _sweet Jisungie_ , whom _he_ should be doting on like this, not the other way around.

Jisung squeezed gently at part of Minho’s torso, nails leaving gentle indents, breaking him from his thoughts. Minho gasped, eyes flying open to stare up at him again, slightly embarrassed at how out of control he was acting. Jisung froze in his movements.

“You really like this?” Jisung's voice wasn’t judgmental, rather curious—awed, even. He couldn’t bring himself to believe the sight before his eyes: Minho sprawled out before him, looking smaller than ever and completely blissed out, eyes filled with want as Jisung softly rubbed across his stomach. He’d hardly done anything at all to make the older melt below him like this, which only made him want to do more.

Minho nodded blankly, eyes focused on Jisung so intently that Jisung feared if he didn’t tear away from his gaze soon, he might literally faint.

He and Minho had a solid dynamic, difficult to explain but obvious to anyone who saw them together. But they’d never done anything like this. He’d never had Minho turn to putty at his hands, lost for words, silently begging him to do a million things to him at once. Jisung nearly vibrated with want— _need_ —to keep touching Minho, to keep doing anything that would keep him acting like this.

Jisung swallowed, his hand finally coming out from under Minho’s sweatshirt after he’d finished feeling every inch of the older boy’s silky torso ten times over. He hesitated a moment, then reached toward Minho’s head. “How about… this?”

Minho hardly had time to process what was happening before Jisung was threading his fingers through his soft hair, finally dried from the earlier shower. Minho’s lips parted slightly at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think,” he mumbled shyly as Jisung’s fingers stroked at his scalp. “I think you already knew about this.”

He wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t the first time Jisung’s fingers—or any member’s—had landed in Minho’s hair, and they both knew it. Jisung gave a smug smile. He’d always had an inkling that the older boy enjoyed having his hair played with a little more than he let off, but the confirmation before his eyes right now excited him for some reason.

“I think I did, too,” he finally admitted out loud. “I think… I think I sort of knew about all of it.”

Minho huffed out a quiet laugh, unable to form any more conversation for the moment as he focused on the indescribable feeling of Jisung persistently running his fingers through his hair. Really, he had no idea how to label their present situation—this was by far the strangest thing to ever happen between him and another member, and that was including several _very_ questionable experiences in the short history of Stray Kids—but he was far too out of it at the moment to dwell so much.

“You’re so perfect,” Minho mumbled after a while, when Jisung’s fingers switched from carding through his hair to gently petting it down at the sides. Jisung laughed at his words, softly tracing his ear while he had the opportunity (not that he’d ever thought of doing so before, of course).

“Not as much as you,” he answered fondly, the nerves that he’d felt just minutes ago practically nonexistent now. This was definitely a little… _different..._ for the two of them, but it still somehow made sense, just another layer added onto the close relationship they already had.

Jisung chewed on his lower lip while he watched the elder, hesitating before he spoke, not exactly sure of where to go next. “Sit up so I can reach you better.”

Minho’s eyes flew open at the unexpected command, but he followed through immediately, shuddering as Jisung’s hand cradled his head the entire time he moved. He didn't know where to place himself at this point—he and Jisung were side by side but facing each other, and though it wasn’t too far for Jisung to reach his hair from where he was, it was still a noticeably awkward angle. Minho pulled his knees to his chest, visibly overwhelmed, sighing in content as the younger reached for his locks with both hands this time, slowly pushing it back from his forehead.

“You can sit in my lap, if you want,” Jisung timidly suggested, eyes hyper-focused on the way Minho gently sucked on his lower lip.

The elder's face scrunched up. “I’ll crush you.” His voice was quiet, eyes falling shut again while Jisung tugged at his hair a tiny bit harder, which made his stomach do about ten backflips.

“Will not,” Jisung argued back, but he didn’t push any further on the matter, instead set on gauging Minho’s reaction when he further tightened his hold on his locks. Minho’s mouth fell open a little, a tiny squeak coming from his throat, and Jisung’s insides twisted delightfully.

“You like it when I pull?” he asked breathlessly, still disbelieving at the circumstance they were in and everything about it, but he was now comfortable enough to ask questions.

Minho focused on evening his breaths for a good several seconds before he found the words to respond. “I… I like it.” He exhaled shakily after the admittance fell from his lips.

“Yeah?” Jisung spurred him on, switching back to his soft patting. His arms were starting to ache from reaching across so far, and part of him sort of wanted to just grab Minho and manhandle him onto his lap to make things easier on his muscles, but he didn’t make a move. Instead, he aimed for teasing him a little more. “Why is that, Minho hyung?”

The older boy flushed at the question. “Jisungie,” was all he breathed out. Jisung gulped at the way his name sounded rolling off of Minho’s tongue, especially in the context of the situation.

Right. The _situation_.

An idea popped into Jisung’s head, and he bit down on his lip for a moment to try and stop himself from carrying it out.

Minho made a soft noise as Jisung tugged at his hair again. _Fuck it_ , the younger thought, giving up on whatever weak fragments of self-control were holding him back before.

He tugged at Minho’s hair much harder, now. “Answer me, kitten,” he said quietly.

All at once Minho whined, and his eyes flew open while Jisung’s pupils dilated at the loud response. His cheeks heated up immediately; he'd never expected to say something like that to Minho—and he'd definitely never expected Minho to react like _that_.

“Fuck,” Minho croaked, embarrassed but almost too turned on to care at this point. The two of them had already forgotten the question that needed to be answered, instead focused on the thick arousal pressing down on them both. They stared back and forth, and though it slightly terrified him, Jisung internally realized that he had Minho _completely_ at his mercy right now. His eyes flitted down to the somewhat obvious bulge that had rapidly formed in the older boy’s sweats, then met his gaze again.

Jisung swallowed, dizzy that he'd made that happen in the span of just a few minutes. Minho waited for him to speak, blinking way too cutely for someone whose dick was hard in his pants right now.

“Get in my lap,” Jisung finally said, voice demanding, then quietly let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Minho’s eyes widened; his lips parted. And then, after what felt like hours of incredulous staring, he slowly moved to straddle Jisung.

If the two had become relaxed at some point, they were back to square one now: bodies tense, throats so tight it was hard to breathe, hearts racing at inhuman paces. Minho’s pupils were nearly blown out as he hesitantly placed his thighs on either side of Jisung’s lap, unsure of where to leave his hands at first before deciding on clutching at the younger boy’s shirt.

This was exactly what he’d asked for, but Jisung still felt like he was going to die at Minho’s sudden proximity. The warm weight in his lap cancelled out everything else he was feeling at the moment, leaving his mind blank. Several long, intense seconds passed before he dared to move, winding an arm loosely around Minho’s waist and using his free hand to brush back Minho’s hair again. Finally, he spoke.

“I want to kiss you,” he admitted shakily, voice so quiet he wondered if Minho could even make the words out.

He must’ve, though, for he let out a soft, nearly silent gasp at the words, Jisung watching intently as he subconsciously wet his lips.

"I would like that,” he whispered at last.

Jisung did nothing but stare back for a moment, admiring the glassiness of Minho’s eyes, the pout of his lips, the waves his hair fell in where Jisung had messed it up. He wasn’t sure what it was he loved so much about making Minho wait, watching his eyes blink in desperation as he silently pleaded for Jisung to make a move already, but he indulged as much as he could. He swallowed, softly petting the older boy's hair down again, drawing out the moment for as long as he could manage—he tried not to show it, but this was potentially one of the most nerve-wracking events of his life.

He moved a strand of Minho’s hair out of his face, his touch practically as light as air, and slowly opened his mouth to whisper his next words without thought.

“Would _kitten_ like that?”

Minho’s hands immediately tightened in Jisung’s shirt, so hard he swore he could hear a knuckle crack. And then he was lunging at Jisung, the force knocking them flat against the mattress as their lips pressed together.

Jisung yelped quietly in surprise, but the noise was swallowed up immediately by Minho. Their mouths moved together almost desperately; Minho gasped into the kiss as Jisung’s hands resumed their tugging at his hair, while his own hands gripped at Jisung’s shirt collar. For someone who had hesitated sitting in Jisung’s lap earlier, Minho didn’t seem to be at all bothered by the way he was now draped over Jisung's body, thighs squeezing tightly around his thin hips, both of their heaving chests flush against each other.

Jisung’s fingers grappled tightly at Minho’s hair as the older boy licked into his mouth, making him dizzy with need and blatantly confused at what exactly had taken them so long to do this. Their lips—their bodies— _everything_ molded together as if they were meant to be one. But Jisung didn’t have time to dwell on such overwhelming thoughts, not when Minho was nipping at his lower lip and then sucking on it as he just barely grinded down onto Jisung’s lap.

“Hyung,” Jisung sighed into the kiss, removing his hands from Minho’s hair to push himself back into a sitting position with the elder in his lap. He then reached for Minho’s waist instead, hands snaking under his hoodie to graze along his back as Minho’s arms looped tightly around his neck, deepening the kiss further. “ _Hyung_.”

“What?” Minho asked breathlessly, pulling away a couple inches to gaze into Jisung’s eyes, and the younger's heart nearly flew into his throat at the sight.

“I—Nothing, just feels good.” Jisung quietly laughed, nervous—but not necessarily in a bad way. Minho smiled back at him warmly, seemingly understanding what he meant, and then leaned back in to press slow, wet kisses across the younger’s jawline. Jisung continued letting his hands roam against the soft skin of Minho’s back in the meantime, frustrated at the barrier his hoodie created. He tried to push up the dark green material as much as possible to allow his hands space, but a much better idea popped into his head.

“Can I—” Jisung started but cut himself off with a small gasp when Minho began sucking gently at the patch of skin under his ear. One of his hands flew up to the back of Minho’s head, gripping the hair there while he tried to remember how to speak.

“Can you what, baby?” Minho murmured, now kissing down the side of his neck, and neither the _baby_ nor the soft kisses helped clear Jisung’s mind. He whined, quietly enough to not be too embarrassed but loud enough for Minho to hear and beam against his skin.

“Hmm?” Minho tried again, pulling back to take in Jisung’s flushed cheeks.

The younger exhaled, pulling at Minho’s hoodie shyly, voice quieting as he spoke. “I wanna take this off… I wanna touch you more.”

“Yeah?” Minho mused, eyes gleaming at the words. Jisung nodded in response, and when Minho simply smiled back at him, he took it as his queue to begin tugging the article of clothing up his torso, pulling while the older freed his arms from the sleeves. Finally, it came over his head, and Jisung tossed it far off the bed, causing Minho to snicker—though neither broke eye contact for as long as a millisecond.

Jisung stared at Minho, and Minho stared back, waiting. Finally, Jisung found his voice again, though it was slightly breathless.

“On your back.”

Minho’s eyebrows raised; he bit his lower lip. “Should I be letting you boss me around like this?” he asked playfully, leaning back a little but not enough to fall on his back like Jisung told him to. Jisung’s heart leapt at the teasing—something he was warmly accustomed to, unlike everything else happening at the moment.

For once, though, he decided to play back.

“I think you like it, hyung,” he said with a straight face, reveling in the way Minho seemed to freeze up at his unexpected response, “so get _on your back_.” He accented his words with a soft push at Minho’s left shoulder, not hard enough to knock him flat if he had persisted, but enough that Minho allowed himself to be pressed back against the mattress.

Jisung hesitantly moved to straddle Minho’s hips now, splaying his hands across his bare ribcage, momentarily trying to ignore the bulge that pressed against his ass. Minho stared up at him, looking as if he’d been holding his breath for the past hour.

“Breathe, kitten,” Jisung whispered, face growing hotter each time he called Minho that, though it was rolling off his tongue more easily the more he said it. Minho loudly exhaled, and Jisung swore he heard him whimper, but he was already focused on the movements of his own hands now—one of them rubbing circles against Minho’s torso, the other shyly heading upwards to brush over one of his nipples.

Minho’s eyes quickly fluttered shut. He swallowed, trying to lessen his panting and hold back his breathy noises as Jisung thumbed at his nipple and gently rubbed over his skin. The younger watched him clamp down on his lower lip to silence himself and withheld a smirk.

“Feel good?” he cooed, wanting to hear the noises Minho was hiding from him. He now rubbed at Minho’s sides with both hands, lightly scratching at the skin with his nails. Minho moaned quietly, hips stuttering where Jisung straddled them.

Jisung wasn’t exactly sure what to do about the hardness below him yet, so in the meantime he just did what felt right, grinding back down against Minho and basking in his pretty sounds. 

“I can’t believe how worked up you are,” he murmured, caressing Minho’s flaming cheek with the back of his hand, and the elder let his eyes flutter back open as he subconsciously leaned into the touch. “I’ve never seen you look so needy, hyung.”

When he saw a flash of embarrassment pass over Minho’s face at his words, he continued talking. “You’re so pretty like this. Pretty kitten.”

Minho’s mouth fell open at the words, hips rutting up against Jisung’s ass, whining loud. _Jisungie_ was all he could manage to say.

“Hush,” Jisung whispered softly, fingers going to press against Minho’s lips. In reality, he didn’t actually want the elder to be quiet—he sort of just wanted an excuse to touch his mouth. He traced Minho’s upper lip softly with his pointer finger while the elder stared up at him, eyes filled with need.

“I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?” He continued to trace Minho’s lips while he waited for a proper response, and Minho so badly wanted to suck his finger into his mouth, but he decided against it for the moment.

“Please,” he said at last, voice small and craving. Jisung’s face lit up at the word, and then he leaned down to capture Minho’s lips once again.

It was slower this time, deeper. Minho’s mouth felt like heaven against his, and as he tasted his lips, he wondered why they had even stopped kissing in the first place. The inside of Minho’s mouth was warm and sweet, and he wanted to stay like this forever, softly sucking on the older boy's tongue, one hand resting on the side of his neck, feeling his pulse, the other cradling his jaw, guiding their kisses.

“You’re perfect,” Minho said for the second time that night, between kisses—this was the first time he’d spoken actual coherent words in a while. “I love you.”

Jisung pecked his lips twice, laughing airily against his mouth. His heart swelled at the words—he’d heard them many times before from Minho and the rest of the members, but they sounded so much sweeter right now. “I love you, too, Minho.”

The soft words exchanged between their lips were the stark opposite of the situation further down, where Jisung had started to move his hips against Minho’s as much as they would allow in his position, Minho rutting up frantically while Jisung deepened their kiss.

“Baby,” Jisung mumbled against Minho's, moaning quietly as he rocked his hips down a little harder. His insides twisted a little when he called Minho that— _Minho,_ of all people—but at the same time, he loved the strange feeling it gave him.

“Hmm?” Minho responded, peering up with dark eyes glazed over with arousal.

Jisung pushed Minho’s hair from his forehead gently. “How—how far do you want to go with this? I mean, what do you want to do about,” his eyes nervously flickered down to where his ass pressed against Minho's dick, “this?”

Minho leaned up to press a small kiss to his lips. “You can do whatever you want to me,” he replied a few seconds later, voice hardly above a whisper, cheeks heating up again as he realized how desperate he looked right now. Jisung, on the other hand, froze, the words flying straight toward his dick.

“I want to, you know,” he spluttered after a moment, unable to find words. What _did_ he want? “Can I…?” He trailed off again hesitantly, unsure of what to do, what to ask, how to even _begin_ to word his desires—many of which had never even occurred to him until just now.

Minho didn’t seem to mind the lack of eloquence in the slightest. “Whatever you want, Jisungie,” he repeated, staring up with so much want and so much trust that Jisung nearly choked on air just looking into his eyes.

“Okay,” he spoke softly, backing away so that he was straddling Minho's thighs instead of his hips. His fingers traced along the waistline of Minho’s sweats, eyes watching the older boy's reaction questioningly. Minho swallowed, heart pounding harder than ever now.

“I’m yours,” he said to Jisung, and that was enough reassurement for the younger to slide his hand under Minho’s sweatpants and wrap it around the his cock before his brain could make him hesitate a second longer.

Minho immediately gasped, throbbing at Jisung’s touch. His eyes squeezed shut on their own accord when Jisung’s fingers brushed around his tip and gathered up the wetness that had gathered there while they were grinding against each other, using it to slide his hand down and back up again.

“Okay?” Jisung checked breathily, speeding up slightly, and Minho keened in response, gritting his teeth once the noise escaped him, back arching. Jisung tightened his fist a little, wanting a real answer. “Kitten?”

“Fuck, _yes_ , fuck, fuck, fuck,” Minho finally spilled out, voice high and airy and, quite frankly, music to Jisung’s ears. “So good, so good, _fuck_ _._ ”

Jisung blushed at the response, watching Minho fondly as he rubbed his finger into his slit, nearly causing him to cry out. He felt high right now, way too used to being babied and bossed around by others, not at all used to… _this_.

“Swearing so much,” he teased Minho—in all honesty, he’d never heard the boy say _fuck_ so many times. “Are you trying to be a bad kitten?”

Jisung was making his own head spin with the words coming out of his mouth.

Minho mewled, hips stuttering, hands blindly reaching up to scratch at Jisung’s thighs where they stayed parted over his lap.

“No, no, no,” Minho blubbered, getting off way too much at Jisung’s words, falling to pieces when he sped up further and then proceeded to tug at Minho’s hair with his free hand, hard. “Good, I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”

“You wanna be good, don't you?” Jisung breathed, trying not to let his voice shake. This was all new to him—and completely bizarre—but, _fuck_ , he’d keep on going all night if he got to see Minho like _this_. His persistent grip on the older boy’s hair was bordering on painful at this point, but it only spurred him on more; small gasps left his mouth with each tug.

Then Jisung decided to switch gears completely.

“Shhh, baby kitten,” he cooed (which only made Minho whine louder), releasing the grip on his hair to instead gently caress his cheek, his lower lip, his collarbone. He even stopped the frantic movements of his fist, instead rubbing at the head of Minho’s cock.

Minho's hips bucked up, heat pooling in his stomach, strings of quiet moans and incoherent babbles spilling from his lips. He was quiet enough, but Jisung’s mind still wandered to the possibility of the other members hearing him through the wall. The thought of anyone else seeing or even just _hearing_ Minho like this made his gut tighten.

He hushed Minho’s soft whines again, leaning down to kiss him sloppily as a distraction, teasing his tongue across Minho’s lips so that they were shining with spit when he pulled away.

“Hyung, you can’t be too loud,” he warned, hand tugging at Minho’s cock at a regular pace again while he gently played with the hair that fell on his gleaming forehead. “Okay?”

Minho whimpered quietly.

“See? That’s good,” Jisung praised. He didn’t know if he’d ever become used to talking to Minho like this—his brain was still struggling to catch up with the situation to begin with—but if his own bulge was enough indication of how much he was enjoying this strange dynamic, then he would be perfectly fine. He swallowed, clearing his muddled thoughts again to focus on the beautiful boy squirming below him.

“I don’t want anyone… Don’t want anyone else to hear you like this,” he blurted softly, face beet red. He tugged harder, faster at Minho’s cock. “Can’t let them hear your pretty kitten noises, right, baby?”

His eyes greedily drank in the sight below him. Minho looked completely blissed out: jaw gone slack at the words Jisung was feeding him, eyes screwed shut, skin glowing with the lightest layer of sweat, hands balled in the sheets of the bed now. Jisung had feared he would ruin the mood with his awkwardness and shaking voice, but from the looks of it, Minho was beginning to come close regardless.

“Yours,” he choked out—and _fuck_ , even his voice sounded gone, “yours.”

Jisung’s heart threatened to creep up into his throat upon hearing the uttered word.

“Mine,” he breathed, and then moved back down to messily kiss the older boy again as he further approached his climax. "My kitty."

He lost track of how much time passed before Minho was moaning loudly into their kisses again, panting against Jisung’s mouth every time they pulled apart for air.

“ _Jisungie_ ,” he whined warningly, voice going up an octave. Jisung hushed him wish more kisses, hand moving relentlessly, thumb working at his slit again.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, hyung,” he murmured, licking into Minho’s hot mouth.

“I’m—” Minho cried out between kisses, and then his back was arching up against his will, hands grappling at the now wrinkled bedspread, mouth releasing an angelic sounding mewl that was swallowed in a bruising kiss while he coated Jisung’s hand in cum.

“Fuck,” Jisung breathed quietly, waiting until he was certain Minho was finished to pull his hand away, using his clean one to softly pet down the elder's sweaty hair as they lazily made out. Quite frankly, Jisung was scared to pull back and actually _look_ at Minho in his post-orgasm state, fearing that he might, by some chance, literally come in his pants on sight. But Minho felt absolutely spent below him, lips placidly moving against his, so he separated their mouths at last, bracing himself.

“Oh, _hyung_ ,” he murmured, unable to believe his eyes. Minho gazed up at him with a shy smile playing on his lips, looking absolutely fucked out just from Jisung’s hand, the pretty blush that had coated his cheeks all night somehow looking even cuter now. He sucked on his lower lip nervously as he waited for Jisung to say something more.

Jisung cleared his throat, trying not to let Minho’s beauty eat up his entire brain—or what was left of it. “You okay?” he asked gently, sitting up on his knees but still straddling Minho. He was gingerly stroking the side of the elder's face now, wondering how far in the clouds he was. Minho nodded soon enough, so maybe he wasn’t _too_ far out of it.

“Good, you were good." Minho sounded timid, almost like he did when this whole ordeal had begun. His glanced at Jisung’s cum-covered hand and flushed, then shyly moved his eyes back to the younger's with a thoughtful glint in them.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

“What is it?” Jisung whispered nervously, playing with the older boy’s ear again.

“You might think this is weird,” Minho started, breaking their eye contact.

“Hyung, I just—we just,” Jisung laughed quietly. “I just touched your dick while saying all of those things to you. I don’t think it can get any weirder between us. Just tell me.”

Minho flushed, pouting his lips amusedly. “Fine,” he sighed. “Give me your hand.”

Jisung offered him his hand, the one that was on his ear, but Minho shook his head. “Not that hand, Jisungie.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jisung breathed, eyes wide in realization, but nonetheless, he held out the hand that was coated in Minho’s release. His whole body nearly set itself ablaze when Minho grabbed his wrist and brought the hand up to his lips.

“Shit,” Jisung whined, voice quiet with awe. He couldn’t figure out what made his cock throb more: the way Minho eagerly sucked on his pinky finger or the way he stared into Jisung’s eyes the whole time he was doing it. He was at a loss for words as he watched, mouth agape. Minho slowly licked up the palm of his hand and then pushed Jisung’s coated fingers into his mouth, lapping at them until they were wet with his spit instead of his cum.

Jisung’s time having the upper hand was seemingly short and sweet—because he was now turning into a puddle where he straddled Minho. He probably would have let the older boy lie there and lick at his hand until sunrise without a complaint, if that’s what he wanted to do.

Minho did, however, wrap it up soon enough with a wet kiss at the top of Jisung’s hand. He cleared his throat, sitting up on his elbows, and Jisung awkwardly rushed to move off of his lap.

“Are there tissues in here somewhere?” Minho asked casually as he looked around the room. Jisung jumped off the bed and lunged at his bag to find a pack that he’d brought with him, trying to ignore the throbbing in his pants while he handed Minho the tissues to clean up the rest of his mess. He sat at the edge of the bed in the meantime, shyly looking down at the carpet and swinging his feet until he was certain Minho’s cock was tucked away.

“Hey,” Minho called gently when he was done, sitting up fully and tugging at the back of Jisung’s shirt so he’d turn to face him. Jisung turned around, and— _God, would his face ever stop burning?_

Minho gazed at him thoughtfully for a few moments, making him feel as though he were about to shrink into nothingness. Finally, he opened his mouth.

“Your turn, Jisungie.”

Jisung’s stomach did a double flip upon hearing those words, wondering if he’d heard them right.

“I—you don’t have to, hyung,” he mumbled embarrassedly, though the tightness in his boxers heavily protested the statement.

“Come here,” Minho said plainly, all submissiveness suddenly drained from his voice. Then he paused, releasing his grip on Jisung’s shirt. “Unless… you don’t want me to.”

“No, _no_ , I—” Jisung spluttered, practically speechless after everything that'd happened so far. “It’s just… you seriously don’t have to, this was never about me—”

“Jisung, get over here.” Minho motioned toward his lap with a playful smile on his lips that heavily contrasted his impatient voice—which, by the way, was turning Jisung on way more than it should've. His voice softened considerably, though, for his next words. “I want to take care of you now, okay?”

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat as he clambered onto Minho’s lap without attempting to protest further; his pants _were_ unbearably tight.. He bit his lip as he came face to face with Minho again, feeling much smaller than before.

“Good, Jisungie,” Minho whispered, pecking him on the lips softly as his fingers unbuttoned Jisung’s jeans and gently slid down the zipper. “I’m gonna touch you now, okay, baby?”

“Okay,” Jisung whimpered, feeling like he could faint at any given moment. His heart hammered in anticipation, becoming louder and louder in his ears as Minho’s hand slid below the waistband of Jisung’s boxers at a snail’s pace.

Jisung squirmed around at the growing nerves—and then gasped sharply, hips rutting up hard as Minho’s hand finally curled around him.

“ _Ah_ ,” he exhaled, eyes fluttering shut and hips moving in time with Minho’s hand at their own will. Minho considered being difficult and commanding him to stay still while he touched him, but Jisung looked far too adorable and blissed out at the moment, so he held off and instead wrapped his free arm around his waist.

“So desperate,” he mused as Jisung shamelessly bucked up, and the teasing comment only spurred on the younger boy’s arousal further. He tipped his head back and moaned loudly, having completely forgotten what it felt like to be touched like this.

“Shhh, baby boy,” Minho said gently, and Jisung moved to bury his face in his bare shoulder, stifling another moan. He was so overwhelmed, so unbelievably sensitive that his entire body shook with need.

“Easy, baby,” Minho whispered, slowing the movements of his hand, and Jisung wanted to cry, unsure of whether to beg Minho to stop calling him that or to plead for him to never stop. The tornado that formed in the pit of his stomach each time it rolled off the older’s tongue made his toes curl and his fingers grip harshly at Minho’s shoulders.

“Hey, look at me.” Minho nudged Jisung’s face off of where it was stuffed into his neck so he’d look him in the eyes. He wanted to coo at the sight—Jisung’s eyes were glassy and wet, pupils dilated, his lower lip red from where he was sucking on it. “Good boy. Now, slow your hips.”

He stopped moving his hand on Jisung’s cock, which only caused the younger to buck up and cry out. Minho raised an eyebrow at that, the arm that was wrapped around Jisung’s waist now going to press against one hip to ensure stillness. Jisung cried out again, more softly, eyes pleading with Minho as he gnawed on his lip and impatiently waited to see what the older boy would do next.

“I want you to talk me through this,” Minho told him then, hand beginning to move on his dick slowly again. He gave the Jisung a look when his hips stuttered, and Jisung froze immediately, stopping himself from bucking up—which earned him a soft _that’s a good boy_ that made his head spin.

“Talk… you… how?” Jisung babbled, voice breathy and desperate. Minho beamed at the sight.

“Just tell me what to do, baby,” he murmured encouragingly, thumb rubbing circles into Jisung's hip as slowly as the hand on his cock, making Jisung want to sob. “Tell me what you want; tell me how you want me to touch you.”

“Um,” Jisung choked out, worried that his body might actually overheat and melt into Minho’s lap any second now. He shyly looked away, hesitating before he spoke. “You can, like… faster, please.”

Minho cooed at how timid he sounded before complying, hand suddenly moving on Jisung’s cock at twice the speed it was going before, causing him to gasp and nearly topple off of his lap—had Minho’s hand not been holding onto his hip so securely, he might’ve.

“How’s that?” he asked, and going off the look in his eyes, Jisung knew he was waiting for a proper answer.

“Mm, good, _fuck_ , can you...” Jisung closed his eyes, worried that he’d accidentally start crying any minute now—he really wanted to survive this without freaking Minho out too much. He spoke again, voice delicate. “Can you, um. Little bit tighter, too?”

Minho raised his eyebrows at the request—he already had his fist pretty tightly closed around Jisung, but he curled his fingers more firmly, as requested. “Tighter, like this?” he checked, gauging Jisung’s reaction.

Jisung keened, thighs shaking on either side of Minho’s lap, hands scratching at his shoulders, leaving small indents as they did.

“Yes, _yes_ , I like it like that, _please_. You can even...” Jisung paused, panting, completely flustered that he was telling Minho these things all at once. He continued more quietly, “Little harder… if you want.”

“ _Harder?”_ Minho gaped at him. He had none of this in mind when he first put his hand on Jisung’s cock, figuring he liked things soft and gentle—now he was even happier that he’d decided to make Jisung talk him through it. Jisung answered him with an enthusiastic nod, biting his lip in bliss, eyes still sealed shut.

“Fuck, Jisung,” Minho swore, face incredulous. “ _Fuck_ —I’ll go as hard as you want me to, baby, but only if you look at me. Can you do that?”

Jisung whimpered at the request, shyly peeling his eyes open to make eye contact.

Minho felt his heart skip a beat at the way Jisung looked at him—eyes heavily lidded and shining with desire, slightly dazed but still focused intently on Minho. “There you go,” he breathed, nearly forgetting how to speak for a few moments. “Fuck, you’re doing so well, Jisungie.”

As promised, he made his movements a little rougher, sending Jisung to cloud nine.

“Does that feel better, baby?” he asked. Jisung moaned loud in response, hands shaking where they now clasped at the back of Minho’s neck, eyes filling with tears of pleasure as he stared into Minho’s hungry gaze like he was asked to do. Minho didn’t even attempt to quiet him at this point, far too addicted to the sounds he was drawing out of him.

“Can you—” Jisung started, voice raspy, but cut himself off with a soft whine.

“What do you want, hmm?” Minho cooed encouragingly, hand slowing for a moment. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Kiss me, please?” Jisung finally whispered, and Minho didn’t need to be told twice before he closed the few inches of distance between their flushed faces and initiated a deep kiss.

Jisung hummed happily into his mouth, tongue pressing past his lips. Minho swallowed every pretty sound his throat had to offer, only pulling back when he figured Jisung was close to coming.

“How are you feeling, baby?” he asked, delicately rubbing Jisung’s waist with his free hand. “Are you close? You can tell me.”

“Close, so close, _fuck_ ,” Jisung cried out, not even bothering to hide what Minho was doing to him, teary-eyed and silently relishing in the way the older boy continued to pump him relentlessly, hard and fast like he wanted.

“Good boy,” Minho quickly praised. “Do you want to come, baby?”

“Please, please, _please_ ,” Jisung begged, nearly sobbing with arousal. “Please, hyung, _please_ let me come.”

“Okay, shhh, come here,” Minho murmured, pecking Jisung’s lips a few times to calm him down. “Go on, Jisungie. You can come now, baby boy.”

He captured Jisungs lips with his own again, tugging harshly at the head of Jisung’s dick one more time before he was releasing all over Minho’s hand with a loud cry that Minho did his best to muffle as he sucked on his tongue. He continued to kiss Jisung softly as he eased his hand off his dick, patiently waiting for him to come back to his senses.

Minho finally pulled away to take in the sight of a completely blissed out Jisung who stared back at him dazedly. “You okay, baby?” he asked lovingly, and Jisung bit his lip, more than flustered when he noted that Minho hadn’t dropped the pet name even after they were done doing whatever they had just done.

“Fuck,” Jisung offered weakly, with wet eyes and a loopy smile, and Minho laughed, leaning in to kiss his warm cheek.

He brought his _own_ hand up to his mouth to clean off this time, without explaining himself in advance. Jisung watched him intently, mouth agape, slightly flustered that it was his own cum Minho was tasting this time.

“Here,” Minho said gently when he was finished, passing Jisung the tissues from earlier. He offered him a playful smile in hopes of lessening his post-orgasm nerves. “Messy Jisungie.”

Jisung giggled shyly, face flushing when Minho didn’t bother looking away as he cleaned himself up. “Whose fault is that?”

Minho only ruffled his hair and grinned.

He cleared his throat after a minute. “I think we have some more things to talk about, now,” he said, words half-serious, half-joking.

“Yeah…” Jisung smiled down at the bedsheets. “I’m glad we talked it out today, though.”

“Mhm,” Minho hummed in agreement, smiling fondly at how shy Jisung appeared right now. “We did… a lot today. We can talk more tomorrow. But you’re okay, Jisungie?”

“I’m more than okay,” Jisung whispered, finally meeting Minho’s eyes again despite how cherry-red he felt on the outside. He only felt redder when he uttered, “I love you a lot, hyung.”

“And I love _you_.” Minho’s face softened fondly at the younger, and he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to Jisung’s forehead. He then announced, “This has been the weirdest fucking night of my life.”

Jisung laughed at that, internally agreeing, and Minho forced himself to get up from the bed to grab two water bottles from the bag the staff had given him earlier.

“Drink up, baby,” he said, tossing one to Jisung, the pet name still falling from his mouth easily, without hesitation. He swore Jisung looked more flustered each time he said it. He added, “And then you’re cuddling me to sleep. We don’t need anyone bursting in on us tomorrow morning when we don’t wake up on time.”

Jisung nodded in agreement, meeting Minho’s soft eyes as they both sipped from the cold bottles. Neither knew exactly which side of that line they stood on right now, but neither felt hurried to find out. Sleep came to them easily that night—only minutes after they curled around each other in warm silence, tired thoughts flowing back and forth between them, unspoken yet still heard. The unexpected events of that night settled down on their shoulders gently rather than heavily, just another part of their strange dynamic, another layer to the connection that only the two of them seemed to understand. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you survived this mess... congratulations! feel free to let me know how much you loved/hated it in the comments, and if (by any chance) you didn't hate it, a second part to this may or may not exist in the near future. also, stream levanter.
> 
> ★ nsfw twt: @[hanknowz](https://www.twitter.com/hanknowz)   
>  ★ sfw twt: @[leeknwoz](https://www.twitter.com/leeknwoz)   
>  ★ curiouscat: [hanknowz](https://curiouscat.qa/hanknowz)


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